Best Christmas Ever
by Beeblebabe
Summary: A Christmas story from a few we rarely hear from.


It had to be the best Christmas ever, Dudley Dursley thought. 

First off, he had received a total of forty-seven presents. That was up a whole _three_ from the year before. Last year he had only had one more present than from the Christmas before, and even then, it was a really small one. His mum had tried to tell him that that tiny little thing wasn't his new present, that it was one of the largest ones, but she had to think him pretty stupid to fall for that one. But this year... this year, _everything_ was big. Not a single package was smaller than his head. The brightly-wrapped packages took over the living room of the house on Privet Drive, leaving the occupants with very little room to move about. This was nothing new, of course, although usually at least once during the morning Potter tripped over something, irreparably breaking it before Dudley could even open it and ruining the whole day. (Of course, the presents were rarely ever really broken, but a faint dent in the wrapping paper was more than enough for Dudley). 

_That_ was the real wonderful thing about this Christmas. Potter wasn't to be found. Dudley had tearfully asked his parents if Potter was coming back for Christmas, letting his lip tremble in such a way so they knew that if he did, there would be an amazing tantrum. His parents had quickly assured him that there was no way that Potter would be coming back to Privet Drive any time before he had to. As far as they were concerned, he could stay at that school forever. 

Christmas morning with Potter there had never been right. He'd always burn breakfast, or make it too soggy, or just lean too close to it while he was cooking. (Not that Dudley ever bothered with breakfast on Christmas morning. Presents came first.) He'd get in the way while Dudley was tearing into his presents. Once the dozens of packages were opened, Potter would want to use something, or touch it, or he'd just _look_ at it for too long, and Dudley would have to throw a tantrum until his dad ordered Potter back to his cupboard. After that, Dudley would go into a sulk until it came time for lunch and the afternoon Christmas specials on television, and whatever toy Potter had ruined would be tossed into the spare bedroom, never to be touched again. 

This Christmas, though, he was left alone to trip over his own presents (the blame for which, of course, went to St. Nick), break his own toys (the blame for which, of course, went to the shoddy manufacturing), and generally make himself miserable without any help from Potter. 

It was really the best Christmas ever. 

* * *

Petunia Dursley had seen many Christmases, but this year's had an odd feeling to it. Somehow, it seemed better than all the ones before it, even the ones when she was little. 

The Christmases of her childhood had always been overshadowed by her sister. Lily only came home from that wretched school once in the year before summer, and it was always the most important event of the winter in the Evans home. She'd be dragged along to the train station to meet her (sick, it was, how she couldn't just come in on a train at a _normal_ platform like everyone else in the world), and then have to spend weeks listen to her parents chatter on and on about Lily this and Lily that, and they kept asking questions about _magic_. Petunia didn't want to hear a word about any of that twisted stuff, of course, but she was never allowed to skulk away and hide from family conversations. Lily always brought home strange presents, and Petunia had to put on a pleasant face when she opened hers, and keep it on until she threw it out. Then there was the year that Lily brought that Potter boy home... Petunia shuddered to remember it. She'd felt like she was the only sane person left in the world that holiday season. 

There'd been a few nice years with just her and Vernon, and then her precious angel Dudley, but then they'd been left with Harry Potter, and nothing had been nice since. Potter made her Dudley unhappy, and Vernon cross, and nearly made her lose her hair. Every year, he'd do something _off_ that made her worry that he'd turn out just like her sister. 

One year, Potter had put the decorations on the tree all wrong, and while she was yelling at him to do it right, they'd all just... fallen off. Several of the precious ornaments given to her by her grandmother had shattered into pieces, and Dudley had cut one of his little footsies on a shard of ceramic. Vernon had needed a stiff drink after sending Potter to the cupboard for the rest of the holiday that day. 

This year, though, there was none of that. She and Vernon had decorated the tree together, and Dudley even volunteered to help (he broke a few, but he couldn't be blamed for that, what with being in that awkward stage that boys get into). She'd made sure to get Dudley as many presents as he'd asked for, and a few on top of that (they could afford more, now that they didn't have an extra mouth to feed). Vernon seemed to like the sweater she'd bought for him, and he'd given her a lovely teapot in the shape of a kitten (which was broken within a week, but one couldn't blame Dudley for wanting to try his new radio-control plane inside, what with the weather being so awful). 

It was a beautifully normal Christmas, and she couldn't remember one better. 

* * *

Vernon Dursley knew it was the best Christmas in years for one simple reason: no Harry Potter. No Harry Potter meant none of his wife having fits and shrieking when the ham mysteriously went from almost cooked one minute to frozen solid the next, none of his son having screaming tantrums every ten minutes (instead, he had them every twenty, a remarkable change that had been nearly a constant since Potter had left for that school), and he could relax and enjoy a good holiday like any other man. 

When the sun was starting to set on Christmas Day, he couldn't help but think to himself that maybe that magic school wasn't all bad, if it had let them have such a perfect holiday. He quickly shook that rubbish out of his head, and firmly told himself not to mention anything of the sort to Petunia. Potter was gone, and that was good enough. 

Best Christmas ever, really. 


End file.
